


Four Fringe Short Stories

by musesmistress



Category: Fringe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesmistress/pseuds/musesmistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four Fringe short stories or drabbles with possible hints of Peter/Olivia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Fringe Short Stories

### Crack

Olivia stood in shock, staring at what was going on in the middle of the lab. Walter was to blame for this, he usually was for the things that went on in the basement of the university, and quite a few of the things that went on outside too. Mind you, this one had to take the cake.

"I can't believe you did this, Walter." Peter said, trying to stave off the two pairs of hands that tried to fondle various parts of his anatomy.

"Jodie and Caitlin are perfect subjects for my love trial," he said, sounding too innocent and too much like a teenager with a new gadget to play with.

"I already have a girlfriend, Walter, and I'm pretty sure she's not gonna be happy with this." Olivia tried hard not to clear her throat and let them know she was there watching.

"Don't worry, son," Walter said bouncing away from the group. "I have it all worked out, you don't have to do a thing. I'll just clone you and..." 

"You want to what?" Peter exclaimed at Walter.

"Clone you. It's perfectly simple."

"Like 'Farmat's Last Theorem' simple?" Peter put in sarcastically.

"I just take your DNA, run it through a..."

"Photocopier?" Peter spat.

"No."

"Exactly. No." Peter said, turning away from his father and walking out of the lab. Olivia managed to stay hidden as he past her and then quickly followed him out to the corridor.

"Peter," she said, catching his attention. He turned a worried look on her. "What's 'Farmat's Last Theorem'?"

He smiled. "A three hundred year old equation that still has hundreds of incorrect proofs in it. You heard all of that and that's your only question?"

"Yep," she said, stepping in and kissing him.

\---

### Dem Bones

Dear Diary, I have fantastic new, I learned an excellent song today, young Ella taught it to me. It was so much fun to hear and such fun to sing. I can’t wait to sing it to you. It goes like this:

The toe bone connected to the heel bone,  
The heel bone connected to the foot bone,  
The foot bone connected to the leg bone,  
The leg bone connected to the knee bone,  
The knee bone connected to the thigh bone,  
The thigh bone connected to the back bone,  
The back bone connected to the neck bone,  
The neck bone connected to the head bone,  
Oh, hear the word of the Lord!

Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk aroun'  
Dem bones, dem bones, gonna walk aroun'  
Dem bones, dem bones, gonna walk aroun'  
Oh, hear the word of the Lord.

The head bone connected to the neck bone,  
The neck bone connected to the back bone,  
The back bone connected to the thigh bone,  
The thigh bone connected to the knee bone,  
The knee bone connected to the leg bone,  
The leg bone connected to the foot bone,  
The foot bone connected to the heel bone,  
The heel bone connected to the toe bone,  
Oh, hear the word of the Lord!

Isn’t it the best? I’ve been singing it all day. I’m pretty sure Peter doesn’t like it, but I simply can’t get the tune out of my head.

Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk aroun’

I will have to remember to sing it o Olivia and Astrid tomorrow.

\---

### Red

Walter smiled to himself as he picked up the red liquorice wand and ripped off the end. He loved them, the taste was great the challenge of ripping off the next bite was fun but most of all he loved the colour. Red. It was his favourite colour. He had a drawer full of red socks, but wouldn't wear them, wearing them would mean washing them and that would fade the colour. Then they wouldn't be red anymore, but pink and that was a detestable colour!

The day Olivia came in with a red coat on, he found himself smiling at her whenever she was near. She looked good in the colour and he found himself wishing more people would wear it. A red tie, red coats, red shoes, anything that was read would do. He remembered when they had come back from the other universe and she had coloured her hair a shade of red to replace her double. They hadn't known then that the woman they'd brought back was a fake, but it didn't really matter, the colour hadn't stayed despite his and Peter's protests.

There needed to be more red in the world.

Perhaps he could paint the lab red or just his work desk and get red chalk for his black boards and lots of red pens for while white one. He could get red sheets for his bed and red apples and tomatoes for the kitchen. Paintings with a lot of red for the hallway and the stairs up to second floor and perhaps a carpet somewhere or a red sofa and chairs for the living room.

The possibilities were endless!

If only Peter would agree.

\---

### Solitary

That’s my word of the day, diary. Solitary, meaning alone and isolate, with no company to stop me from going mad. Secluded to the point where I feel forgotten. But I know I’m not. They will come for me, eventually. I pray every night that it will be the next day, that they will eventually find me, realise that I’ve been replaced and come back for me.

Sometimes I find it hard to remember who _they_ are, their faces fade from my mind and their names get lost in all the thing I try desperatly to remember while I’m stuck here. I feel lost. Wishing that this would be over, that whatever this world’s Walter Bishop wants to do to me will be done quickly. But he is taking his time, he takes blood, DNA, sometimes pulling my hair out to get that last one. He’s being careful, maticulus and arogantly confident that no one will be able to find me and set me free.

Freedom. It’s there, everytime the door is opened I can see it, smell it, feel it like a bitter wind on naked skin and at the same time like the gentle touch of a loved one. A loved one every woman dreams is out there, looking for them. Looking to resuce their damsel in distress from the evil oger. Or the Prince to their Sleeping Beauty, just one kiss away from waking from the nightmare.

I wish he was here to hold me now, keep me safe and tell me everything will be alright. But if he were trapped in here with me, he wouldn’t be able to save me. I need you to save me, Peter. Please.


End file.
